In Times of Crisis
by bcbdrums
Summary: A lie. A flat out lie. The dangers had defeated me. Surely, I stand here alive. But there is a new grave out there today. And an old grave out there that cost me my life as I knew it.


This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

In Times of Crisis

© 2008 by the author (anonymous by request) in association with Daylor and Sheldon Publishing™

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission.

The author does not in any way profit from this work. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator.

For more information: submit a review or contact the author via private message.

* * *

In Times of Crisis

A slight wind. Brownish, short grass. Cold, dark stones. I pulled my coat tighter around me as I took in the scene for truly the first time that day.

The cemetery was empty, save for the one grave with the freshly turned earth. It spoke of life. Life lost, lives left behind… Would anyone ever realize?

The headstone that had been placed before the new grave was quite small, nearly identical to all the others in the churchyard. There were a few larger ones, monuments to the rich and famous no doubt. I felt my eyes shift from the tiny stone to one of those large ones. A familiar one.

How long my eyes rested there as I stood lost in thought, I'll never know. But finally, either the wind or the waning light of dusk made me look back to the new grave one last time before I turned and walked away.

I left the yard and had every intention of turning to the street, but my feet took me instead to the stone steps of the church. I pulled open the wooden doors and felt a rush of wind as I entered. It was just as cold within as it was outside.

I walked slowly into the chapel, watching as the setting sun shone through the stained glass and formed curious patterns on the walls. There were candles lit at the altar, and there wasn't a soul in sight. The only sound was my footsteps as I walked slowly through the darkened pews. It was somewhat eerie.

When I reached the front of the room I sat down in the first pew, as I found I had nothing else to do. I did not even know why I had come here.

So I sat. I looked at the ornate décor. I picked up a hymnal and flipped through until I found "Amazing Grace." It was the only title that was familiar to me. There were more verses than I remembered…

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,  
That saved a wretch like me.  
I once was lost but now am found,  
Was blind, but now I see._

I knew what that was supposed to mean. But I realized that, even singing it as a child…those weren't words I believed. Not in the way we are supposed to believe it. Not in the way that meant anything.

_T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear.  
And Grace, my fears relieved.  
How precious did that Grace appear  
The hour I first believed._

That would be nice, to have my fears taken away. Well, they were already gone. They had been realized. I had nothing left to fear, because everything was gone now.

_Through many dangers, toils and snares  
I have already come;  
'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far  
and Grace will lead me home._

A lie. A flat out lie. The dangers had defeated me. Surely, I stand here alive. But there is a new grave out there today. And there is an old grave out there that cost me my life as I knew it.

_The Lord has promised good to me.  
His word my hope secures.  
He will my shield and portion be,  
As long as life endures._

What promise? Life didn't endure, it ended. And He was no shield while there was life. Another lie.

_Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,  
And mortal life shall cease,  
I shall possess within the veil,  
A life of joy and peace._

What? What veil? I can have no peace, living or dying. Not that I'm living anymore. A person can't live with part of their soul missing, and mine has been hacked away at for so long now I can't even know what is left of me, or what is true and what is not.

_When we've been here ten thousand years  
Bright shining as the sun.  
We've no less days to sing God's praise  
Than when we've first begun._

When was this verse added? I don't recall this one… No matter, it is clearly false as well. The sun will never shine for me again. And I've never sung God's praises. Maybe that was my problem. It's not that I don't know He's there. I've just…never seen reason or need for Him.

He certainly didn't help me when I needed help. Didn't help them either…

"What's the point?!" I heard myself say aloud, and the intensity of my voice startled me. I closed the hymnal with a dull thud and dropped it onto the pew. But rising to leave, I stopped suddenly, for there was a man sitting in the pew across from me, staring up at the altar.

He was young, about five and twenty, and his face held such a look of ignorant optimism that I had to scowl. Then he looked at me.

"It can be hard amidst grief, to find any purpose."

"What do you know of my grief?" I answered cautiously, "How long have you been there?" He stood and faced me then.

"I've always been here. You just weren't aware of My presence."

"I'm sure I would have noticed you."

"Can you tell me what that is?" he asked, ignoring my question and raising a hand to point toward the altar. I followed his gaze to a Cross on the pulpit.

"It's a Cross of course." I had thought this young man worked for the church, or was a regular attendee. He must not have been, if the Cross was an unfamiliar symbol to him.

"I meant, what it stands for." I thought for a minute.

"It is the Christian symbol. In Christian history, Jesus the Prophet was crucified and His followers continued to spread His teachings, thus starting the religion."

The man sat back down and leaned against the back of the pew, an amused smile on his face. "You know, people always forget the important part, no matter how they tell the story, and no matter what century it is told in. Specifically in modern times though."

I looked at him suspiciously. "What do they forget?"

"That Jesus rose again."

"Ah…I apologize. I guess that is the way people are able to claim He was the Son of God."

"_Is_."

"Is, yes I suppose… If you are a believer, then why did you ask me?"

"I wanted to know what you believe."

"…Why?"

"I am in this place constantly, and I have seen you only once before."

I stiffened as unwanted memories returned to me. "I do not have reason to come."

"So you do not believe?"

"Well…I believe God exists. As a man of science, it would be idiotic for me to believe otherwise. Just looking at the human hand, or a blade of grass…they were clearly designed by a Higher Power."

"Good. But you believe nothing more?"

I stiffened again. "What else are you referring to?"

"That Jesus is the Son of God, that He died on the Cross and rose again, and that He paid for all the sins of the world."

"Well…" I actually stopped to think about that. I had heard that story many a time on Easter Sunday, but my family were not church-goers and I had maintained that practice into adulthood. "I have no reason not to believe it, I suppose."

"But you don't."

"What makes you say that?" Who was this brash young man anyway, questioning me about my life?

"The last time you gave God a thought was the last time you were here."

"And just how do you know so much about me?!" I growled.

"I told you. I am here all the time and I have seen you only the one other time and never before and never after."

"I may attend another church."

"I would have seen you in another church."

The man's jokes were getting on my nerves. If he worked for the church, he should have his employment terminated for harassing parishioners. Of course…I wasn't a parishioner. Perhaps I could have him arrested then. Lestrade couldn't have gotten too far…

"I'll wish you good day young man," I nodded brusquely, and started back the way I had come. The sun had set now, and the only light came from the candles behind me as I slowly picked my way toward the door.

"You didn't pray."

"What?" I stopped, and turned back to look at him. He was standing now, a silhouette against the candlelight.

"Neither time, when you realized you'd lost them and went back to find them. You didn't pray. And yet afterward, both times you have come here."

"What are you talking about? How do you know so much about me?!"

"Why are you here now?"

"Because!" I finally shouted.

"Why?" the man asked calmly. His calm was infuriating.

"Because nothing else helps!"

"And yet you pursue other paths anyway."

"I _will_ have vengeance!"

"What will that accomplish?"

"They took my life from me, so I'll take theirs. An eye for an eye, isn't that in your precious Bible?!"

"It is. But not this way. Obey the law of the land. That is also in the Bible."

"The law of the land didn't save them!"

"It was her time. She is safe now."

"But…" I was suddenly speechless as realization dawned on me. And it quick turned to fear. "Stay…stay away from me!"

"Let Me help, John."

"I…I can't!" I screamed, and turned and fled the church.

I stopped as soon as I had escaped teh crushing atmosphere of the chapel, and leaned against the heavy doors catching my breath. What had just happened? That couldn't possibly have been real…

I opened the door again and looked down the aisle to where the man had stood moments before. He was gone.

I was losing my mind. I had to be. That wasn't real… He isn't…

I straightened and exited the building, and looked over to the cemetery and its new grave. There was still light enough, and I picked my way through the numerous headstones until I came to the one I sought. The grass was still trampled around the grave, from all the people who had stood at the service earlier that afternoon. I saw some crushed flower petals mixed in with the freshly turned earth.

"Mary…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I sobbed, "What should I do? What do you want me to do?" Only the wind answered me. "Are you…was He…?" I trailed off as I looked at the cold printing on the headstone. Her time… She should never had had a time. An angel like her should have lived forever.

I rose and left the grave, confused.

Nothing helped. And what I thought would, now I was uncertain of. Was He right? Would vengeance not help me? I didn't know anymore…

I paused as I realized I was passing that monument. It wasn't a large one, but it was large enough. He would have found it unfitting, no doubt.

"It all started with you… Sometimes I wonder if my life would have been better without you…if I should just forget you. But…" I paused as the cold wind blew across my sweaty brow, and l read the inscription that I had read so many times before:

_Sherlock Holmes_

_1854-1891_

_The World's Greatest Detective_

Those words brought back memories…so many memories, that I didn't want to face… And yet, they sustained me in a way. Maybe more than they should.

"But…I knew…I know you were my friend, Holmes."

I turned and left before my voice broke, and headed for home, not even noticing the passersby as I slowly walked the streets of London.

I was so confused. I had meant what I had said to that…Man. Nothing helped. And I knew in my heart, that vengeance wouldn't help either. She wouldn't want that. Nor would he.

And nor would He.

I hailed a cab as I realized I would never make it back to Kensington on foot, and felt my heart beat faster as a dangerous thought took hold in my heart. Of course, the voice of doubt instantly rejected the thought. What good would it do after all? It never had before… But then, He was right. He'd never seen me save those two times.

And I did believe. It certainly could do no harm…

I swallowed my doubts as I tucked the blankets around me and gave the cabbie the address of my practice. As the rhythm of the horses hooves began, I shoved the doubting voice out of my head and felt my heart calm. I took a deep breath.

"Dear God…"

* * *

_Author's notes: All right...I forgot why I wrote this, but it came to me in church this morning and I felt I couldn't let this one slip away. I have never taken Watson, or Holmes, or even Mary for that matter to be religious people. But in my experience and observation, people turn to God in times of crisis._

_I have always been a Christian, but it is not always easy to walk the straight and narrow. I was in my first real car accident on Wednesday morning, and it was rather terrifying to me. And this morning I think I finally got over it...or at least the roughest part, simply by turning to God._

_If you're curious about the accident, I posted something on deviantART about it. A bit dark, I warn you. A link to my account is in my profile._

_And, this is another small excerpt from the novel I am writing, which I fear will never see the light of day, because right now it only exists in snippets like this. This can be taken as a follow up to my fic "Unexpected."_

_John Newton did not write the last verse of "Amazing Grace" as it is sung today. Newton's last verse is usually left out of the song, replaced with the anonymously written one. I included both here._

_Oh, and as always, this was written on the fly with no editing whatsoever._


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